Since his first project Último Sueño (Last Dream), which he directed while still at film school, Giorgelli has focused on short films. He describes Último Sueño as “an incomprehensible, delusional piece, which focuses more on form than on content” and dismisses his early pretensions: “I gloated mainly over technical matters. I believe that I did not have much to say at the time.” In Las Acacias, Giorgelli has instead achieved a fine focus on the craft of character acting, and a balance between the roles of director and editor, allowing his actors to grapple with the complexities of their characters while maintaining a tight grip on the script, and certainly disposing of any superfluous dialogue. The result has been an overwhelming response at the festivals, with Las Acacias scooping the ACID, Camera D’Or and Young Critics Awards at Cannes, the Films from the South Award at Oslo and the Sutherland Trophy at the BFI London Film Festival. On this international success Giorgelli will only say it is “a very big surprise. The film is being very well received in several different countries, but mostly the reactions are the same … my film talks about something that is universal.”

With such a sparse script, the film owes a significant amount to the stellar abilities of its lead actors: “It is one of the key points of the film, and I couldn’t get it wrong here because the film is essentially them.” Germán de Silva plays Rubén, and continues his long tradition of character acting and lends a gravitas and empathy to what could have become an awkward character to love, while Hebe Duarte is an exceptional newcomer as Jacinta, her ordinary beauty and quiet dignity contrasting with Rubén’s rough exterior and gruff mannerisms. Giorgelli’s initial plan for Rubén was to find a real-life truck driver: “We began auditioning, for almost a year. I saw many, but none that I really thought fitted the role. I realised I had to look for someone who would have to improvise but who could also respect the script and could fit the role of my imagined Rubén.” Ironically, on casting de Silva, he achieved an added layer of authenticity: “the best praise for the film was when someone asked after a screening: is he an actor or a real truck driver?”

Las Acacias’ success relies on a deep understanding of its intention between director and actors: “Germán was very quick to understand the spirit of Rubén and above all the tone I wanted for the film; this idea about not pushing and not exaggerating anything. And like Germán, Hebe understood straight away who Jacinta was and she brought aspects of her Paraguayan nationality that really enriched the role. And well … when we introduced her to the baby it was magic. They really seemed like mother and daughter and still today, watching the film, I can’t believe that they aren’t actually related.” In her acting debut, Duarte was chosen in spite of her lack of experience: “Hebe is not a professional actress but she is a tremendous natural actress – intuitive, with a great emotional intelligence [and] what can I say about Nayra, the baby … it was a miracle. She appeared only a month before the shoot and I noticed in the audition that she had something special, she looked at me directly in the eyes and held her gaze, until I started to feel a little intimidated.”

Rubén’s solitude is an important aspect of the film and it’s unclear how enforced and unwelcome it actually is. At the beginning of the film he is very much his own man who fiercely guards his independence and privacy, but the fact that Jacinta and Anahí are forced into his world causes him to re-evaluate his loneliness in a way he hadn’t before imagined. At times Rubén’s demeanour is genuinely heart-breaking – revealing his estranged son to Jacinta, his ensuing silence speaks volumes, and his face on witnessing the affectionate welcome that she receives at her cousin’s house reveals his deepest regrets at his own solitary existence.

While this scene seems to be a turning point in his attitude, Giorgelli is keen not to be too prescriptive on Rubén’s path from here: “Like you, I don’t know much more about his future … I just know that I can see in the 85 minute running time of the film that he is not the same person at the end of the film, his protective shield was broken and he could open, just a little bit, his heart.” It’s a refreshingly simplistic way of viewing a character’s arc, and similarly, the mystery surrounding Jacinta’s circumstances (who is Anahí’s father? Why are they not in touch? What is she leaving in Paraguay and what is she hoping to find in Buenos Aires?) is similarly left unexplained.

The importance of the film for Giorgelli is not in prescribing a narrative, but in the universal themes it carries. “My film is a story about love. And I see it as a popular film; a film that connects well with the audience. It is not a difficult film, hermetic or incomprehensible. And I would say that it has something to do with the universality of the story being told, with its profoundly human essence.” We witness isolation, regret and unspoken sadness in both Rubén and Jacinta, but the character of the five-month-old baby also represents new beginnings and new hope, and she proves to be a common bond between her fellow travellers.

The use of intense, very close up and isolated shots on each character gradually gives way through the film to encompass both protagonists, but the truck’s cabin remains the main set throughout. This cinematography stems from the minimal dialogue: “The principal idea is simple but powerful. What is important is the interior conflict this man felt about fatherhood. From here came the idea to shoot the film up close, to see the journey through their eyes, to see what the characters see.” Somewhat controversially for something that was conceived as a road movie, this entailed a major rejection of landscape shots and sweeping views of the roadside, something that was difficult to resist given the stunning backdrop of South America.

However, Giorgelli maintained his idea saying: “I should admit that at the start I was a little terrified about shooting the film in this way, but I never stopped feeling that this was a road movie.” Argentina is a country of vast and dramatic landscapes, and they are dramatically toned down and only hinted at in homage to the film’s close-cropped, simplistic style. Giorgelli describes it as seeing the landscape “exactly as they see it, through the windshield but also via the truck’s enormous wing mirrors. The landscape that we see advancing is the slow transformation, towards the future, just like what is happening to the characters. I think that the landscape plays an important role in the film, precisely because it is not in the foreground, instead we discover the landscape with them.”

In cropping the camera’s view Giorgelli emphasises the intimacy between the characters: “It was like creating a box with precious boundaries, inside everything matters, nothing matters outside,” and because of this, Las Acacias becomes a phenomenally personal project. It stems from the director’s own preoccupations with fatherhood, but offers a beautiful and rewarding portrayal of the loneliness we have all felt, and the promise of companionship to come.